


Can't Deny

by badbastion



Series: Denial [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, D/s, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sam is 16, Topping from the Bottom, Vaginal Sex, girl!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbastion/pseuds/badbastion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The host of visions he'd had all day about what Dee might do to him tonight go up in smoke when they get home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Deny

When Deanna picks Sam up from school the next day, she's wearing sunglasses and her hair is a mess.

"Still hungover?" Sam asks, grinning. She just frowns at him, and his grin fades.

She'd been gone from his bed when he'd woken up this morning, and he’d been glad of it when he’d gotten out of the shower to find John sitting in the kitchen.

“Where’s Dee?” Sam had asked.

"Went to get some coffee," John had said, though she'd been gone for an awful long time just for a coffee run.

"Oh," Sam had said blankly.

When they'd pulled up to the doors of the school, John had told him, "I'm going on a hunt. Be good."

"Okay," Sam had said, and that was all they'd said to each other this morning, and now he was getting just as few words out of Dee.

"You okay?" Sam asks now, trying to peer past Deanna's sunglasses to see her eyes.

She shakes her head no. "Hell of a hangover," she says, her voice rough. "Think I'm gonna have to go out and get drunk again if I want to get over it."

"Oh," Sam says, disappointed.

The host of visions he'd had all day about what Dee might do to him tonight go up in smoke when they get home; Deanna drops him off in the driveway and says, "Later, Sammy," and he realizes she meant that she's going to go get drunk _now_.

He stands on the porch and watches her drive away, the corners of his mouth weighed down in a frown.

It's not like they'd never left him home alone before, though. He's a grown boy. And he's got homework to do.

 

He starts to worry at around midnight, when he hasn't heard from Dee. He'd tried calling her an hour earlier, but she hadn't answered, and all kinds of dismaying thoughts are crowding up in his head. He lies in bed, wondering if she's with some guy right now, wondering if she's gotten into an accident, wondering if he did something wrong and she's mad at him.

He'd only done what she told him to. That's all he'd done the whole time.

He rolls over onto his stomach and hugs his pillow, his eyes burning and stomach hurting worse the more he thinks about her. This week has been special--it's been incredible and painful and terrifying and almost more than he could handle sometimes, and now the break in the routine is making him sick with anxiety.

He leaps out of bed when he hears the creak of gravel in the driveway. Runs to the door and opens it, and watches Dee stagger out of the car and up to the porch, her boots scuffing uneven scratches in the dirt.

"Are you okay?" he asks before she's even inside.

"Really drunk," she slurs, and she leans on him for a second to catch her balance as she goes inside. He surreptitiously sniffs her as she passes him and is relieved that he doesn’t smell the distinct odor of sex, only a thick miasma of whiskey and bar smoke.

He follows her down the hall.

"I tried to call you. I was worried."

"Why?" she asks, resting against the hall doorway as she ineffectually tries to toe her boot off.

"Well, you... you didn't... "

"I go out all the time, Sammy," she slurs tiredly, giving up on her boot and stumbling into the bedroom.

The bedsprings creak loudly when she collapses onto the bed, and she struggles with her jacket before she yanks it off and slings it onto the floor. She flops backwards onto the bed.

"Dee?" he asks hesitantly, suddenly needing answers, needing reassurance, though he's not exactly sure how to ask for it.

"We can talk t'morrow, Sammy. Gonna sleep now," she mumbles, and she turns over on the mattress, pulling her dirty boots up onto the blanket.

Sam sighs. "Here, let me get those," he says, and he carefully unlaces and slips her boots off before he maneuvers her under her blanket, still in her clothes.

He stands there frowning for several minutes before he turns the light off and gets into his own bed, glad Dee's home and safe, but inexplicably missing her.

 

Sam doesn’t know how he managed to fall asleep, but he’s awoken by the springs of his bed creaking as Deanna crawls in beside him, naked, still reeking of whiskey and stale smoke.

“Sammy,” she whispers.

“Yeah?” he says, hope clearing his mind of any lingering sleep.

“Want you,” she whispers, licking the corner of his mouth. “Wanna ride your face.”

“Okay,” he whispers back, his dick twitching and mouth beginning to water.

Then she’s straddling his face, pressing her pussy against his open mouth and it’s so familiar and comforting and just plain goddamn hot that he’s already feeling better about the strange day he’s had, and he gets to work on her like he’s being paid to do it, wanting to make her feel good, wanting to make her get off so hard she never ignores him like today again.

“Sammy, Sammy,” she groans, threading her fingers through his hair. “Such a good boy.”

“Mmmh,” he moans, reaching for his cock, almost forgotten in his desperation to get to her pussy.

“Nuh-uh,” Dee says, reaching back to grab his arm. “Don’t touch yourself. Not tonight.”

Sam groans, and Deanna groans back at the vibration of his mouth. He reaches up instead and grips her hips, buries his tongue in her and tongue-fucks her for a long moment before moving back up to suckle at her clit. He can feel her trembling, spasms running through her thighs and hips, and he tongues and sucks her harder, wanting to feel her come in his mouth.

But then she pulls away. She slides down his body, straddling his stomach before moving down to press her slick pussy against his lower belly, his cock snugging up between her ass cheeks.

“You wanna come tonight, baby boy?” she asks, grinding against his belly.

“Please,” he whispers, thrusting up against the cleft of her ass.

“Be a good boy, and maybe I’ll let you.”

She lifts up and crawls lower, and he groans as he feels her warm wetness slide against the underside of his cock.

“You’re so hard,” she whispers, curling her hips to slide her wet cunt up along the line of his dick.

“Want you so bad,” he whimpers, tentatively placing his hands on her waist. Not moving her, not trying to push her down, just feeling her smooth skin and the delicious undulations of her belly as she slides her pussy up and down the underside of his cock, moaning.

“Maybe you can have me,” she whispers, and his dick jumps against her. She presses her hands to his chest and grinds down against him, and he feels her shudder. She strokes her cunt along the underside of his dick for another moment, moaning quietly in the dark, then says, “Do you want to come inside me?”

“Oh god!” The words are punched out of him, and for a second he thinks he’s going to shoot his load all over his belly. His cock twitches hard, once, twice, and she moans.

“I’ve always used condoms,” she says, riding his shaft. “But I wanna feel you in me.”

“Please!” he cries, unable to keep from thrusting up against her. “Please,” he says again, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Wait ‘til I tell you to come,” she orders, and before he can agree, she’s lifting and sliding onto him, and the hot, wet clench of her pussy around the head of his cock has him seeing stars.

“Oh, Jesus, Dee,” he breathes, clamping his hands down around her hips. 

“Easy, baby boy, easy,” she murmurs, and she rubs his chest as she slides lower, engulfing him in her warm, tight slick. It’s better than he ever imagined it could be, and he wants this to never end, but he feels the telltale tightening at the base of his cock.

“Oh, Dee, I’m close,” he whimpers, and she shushes him.

“Hold onto it, Sammy. Wait for me.”

He thinks that’ll be impossible, but then she’s seated on him and making only the smallest movements of her hips. He feels pressure on his pubic bone and hears her moan, and he looks down to see her grinding her clit against him.

He can’t look for long. “Oh, Jesus,” he whines, his hands shaking on her hips. He closes his eyes and just feels her, feels himself buried inside her for the first time, and this _is_ his first time and he wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

She groans above him, then pants, “You’re so _big_ , baby boy,” and he feels the hard swell at the base of his cock that’s so familiar to him.

“Dee, I’m gonna--”

“Just a little longer,” she says, words tumbling out of her mouth in a slur, moving faster now. Not sliding up and down him, not letting him thrust into her, but just grinding against him with his dick buried inside her. “Wait for me, just a little…”

She’s starting to clench around him now, the bedsprings creaking as she speeds up, and he lets his hands roam along her body, touching her heaving belly, her breasts, her tense arms. “Oh god, Sammy,” she moans, and she tightens hard around him. “Come with me, come in me,” she breathes, and she throws her head back and cries out.

Now that permission is given, now that his beautiful, beloved sister is coming on his cock, there’s no amount of willpower in the world that could keep him from coming. It rushes out of him in a torrent, and the force of it nearly bends him in half, his body curling up at the waist and the knees. He engulfs her in his arms and buries his face in her chest as he pumps out load after load of hot come into her. She’s pulsing and writhing over him, calling out his name, and all the sounds he can make are incoherent moans and grunts as he lets go of the orgasm he’s been holding onto for a week.

Black spots spread across his vision as he fills her, and as his climax begins to subside, he finally uncurls and lies back against the mattress.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dee breathes, and she starts riding him in earnest now, his orgasm mostly spent but his cock still hard. He watches his dick slide in and out of her swollen pussy lips, their wetness catching the dim light and glistening, and he shudders in an unbelievable second mini-orgasm at the sight.

“Ohhhh,” he moans, the sounds spiraling up as he throws his head back and lets the sensation take him, the utter release of it after so long, the delicious feeling of completion, of connection between them.

“Yeah, baby boy, that’s it, let it out,” Dee whispers, stroking down his sweaty chest and belly, her cunt giving a soft clench of aftermath. That nearly sets him off again, but then he’s suddenly too sensitive, and he whimpers and clutches at the sheets.

“Yeah,” she whispers again, and she slides off of him and swings her leg over and away, and the absence of her makes him wish he hadn’t whimpered, makes him wish he could be buried inside her forever.

She nestles against him and rests an arm over his chest, kissing his jaw, breathing hard just like he is. He turns his head, seeking her mouth, and he gets a long, deep kiss, her hand coming up to stroke the side of his face and tangle in his hair.

“You did so good,” she whispers once her breathing’s steadied to something approaching normal. “So good, Sammy.”

“Oh god,” he says, tears wetting his eyes at the enormity of what has just happened. He feels wrung out and spent in the most delicious of ways; he’s relieved, the tension and frustration of the last near-week finally leached from his body. He turns to her so that he can press the fronts of their bodies together and tangle their legs, wanting as much touch as he can get, wanting as much Deanna as he can have. It feels like he can have all of her now, like the final barrier has been passed. Like she’s finally his, the way he’s been hers the whole time.

“Shhh, Sammy,” she says, running a callused hand down his back, and he realizes that he’s actually crying a little. Any other time he’d be embarrassed, but he’s beyond that in this moment, and he revels in the feel of her wrapped around him instead.

“Dee, that was…” He wants to say thank you. He wants to tell her how much he loves her, how much that meant to him. “That was better than I ever imagined,” he says finally.

She laughs softly. “Just wait ‘til we actually fuck,” she says, then she’s quiet for a long time, running her hand up and down his back and across his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the corner of his eye.

He breathes with her for long minutes, feeling her soft breasts and hard body against his, their bodies cooling in the darkened room. He’s relaxed and relieved, yes, but his ever-moving mind has started its travels again.

This isn’t something normal. They’re brother and sister, and this has been a game to her, and she’s never had a steady boyfriend. There’s absolutely no precedence for this for him, and he knows that there’s none for her, either.

He loves this, doesn’t think he could live without it, but he doesn’t know if he could stand it if she were to sleep with other people.

So he takes a deep breath, kisses her, and then steels himself.

“Can you not? Fuck anyone else now?” Sam asks.

"Oh, Sammy," Deanna says, her face twisting into a mess of emotions he can't interpret. She turns it away from him and his gut sinks. "You don't get it," she says, shoving up off the bed and yanking Sam's t-shirt on over her head, inside-out. She paces the small space between their beds, two steps away, two steps back, eyes flicking to him and away, her fingers coming up to her mouth like she wished she had a cigarette, but she'd stopped smoking those a year ago when John took her to task for getting out of breath on their morning runs.

Stomach a yawning pit of dread, Sam watches her dip her fingers into her mouth to bite on her nails, a rare sign of vulnerability. She yanks her hand away, eyes suddenly firm and focused. "I didn't get it. Not at first," she says, and she makes one more four-step lap before sitting on the other bed across from him him.

"I hate talking about this stuff," she grumbles, then sighs and looks up at the dark ceiling. Her hand goes to the cord of the amulet around her neck and she squeezes it. Looks him straight in the eye. "But this is important. So I'm going to. Look."

She takes a deep breath. "I lied to you. About that second guy, the one I said took me to his room, the one I said I jerked off. There was no guy. Just you. I couldn't stop thinking about you all night, and it made me crazy. So I got drunk and came home, made up some story. I don't even know why."

Sam's sitting up, his arm trembling where it's holding up his uncentered weight. "But the first night?"

Deanna stares at him. "I… I fucked a guy. But I promise you, I was thinking about you the whole time. Wondering if you'd, you know. Wondering if you were going to wait for me and we could. We could." She swallows, then closes her eyes.

When she speaks again, her voice is so quiet he has to lean forward to hear it, bedsprings creaking. "Do you know how long I've wanted you?"

At that, the aching pit in his gut shrinks, then warms, and that warmth rushes up to his face. His fingers tingle.

"I've watched you," she says, "Watched you grow up, watched you turn into what you are, and I felt so sick, but I saw the way you looked at me and I thought maybe... "

She opens her eyes. "Maybe we were both sick. The same way. And then you walked in on me and you were so hard and I wanted you so bad, but I just couldn't... just couldn't _take_ it, like that. Couldn't push all this, all of me," she makes a sweeping gesture with the hand not still gripping the cord of the amulet, and the gesture says so much, so much self-loathing and dismissal that Sam's eyes tear up, "On you that way."

Sam swallows. "So we played a game," he says.

Deanna takes another breath and nods, looking relieved. "Yeah. We played a game. Where you could say no any time, where you could stop it any time you wanted by just, just coming. Where you never even had to play at all. And I could... " Her eyes are softer now when she looks at him, apologetic. "Keep you at arm's length. Just in case you did stop it."

"But you let me climb into your bed," Sam says, understanding growing around the edges of his frenzied thoughts.

"Yeah. I couldn't say no. Even though I was... scared." The word sounds forced out of her, but no less honest for all that.

"Scared we'd get too close, and it wouldn't be real. It would still just be a game," Sam says slowly, and Deanna nods. Sam wants so badly to cross the few feet to the other bed and grab onto her, reassure her, make her stop looking so vulnerable and worried, but he can't. Not when she's talking about real things, about real feelings, like she never, ever does.

"Sammy, I'm gonna tell you something, and if you ever, ever throw it back in my face, I'll kick your ass," she says, and he's pleased to see her shoulders square even though her face is still soft. "I'm scared right now. Scared you got what you wanted, and now it's gonna be over." She swallows hard at that, her hand trembling on the cord.

And that's it for Sam. He understands her distance today, understands why she’d held him at arm’s length without her having to say a word. They’d gotten close last night, closer than ever, and she was scared he’d push her away.

But she’d climbed into his bed tonight despite that.

"Dee," he cries out softly, pushing up and across the gap to near-tackle her onto the bed with a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the perfect crooked bump of her nose. "I never want it to be over. I want it to stay like this, I don't care if it started out as a game, it's real now. I want you telling me what to do, I want to be yours, all the time. Nobody else. For me or you. This last week has been..." Sam laughs pitifully. "The hardest week of my life. But the best, Jesus Christ. I was afraid it would be over too, every time you left the house--scared you'd find some boy to fuck and he'd get you off so good you wouldn't have the... the time, or the interest, for me anymore."

Dee's green eyes are glowing in the dim streetlights coming in through the window. She carefully lets loose the cord of the amulet and reaches up to brush the hair out of his eyes. "You wanna keep doing this?" she asks. "Me and you?"

"Yes!" It's hard to keep his voice down to a harsh whisper when he wants to shout it so loud the whole town can hear it.

"You want me to tell you what to do?" she asks, smoothing a hand down the side of his face.

"Yes," he whispers, turning his face to kiss her palm.

"You want me to tell you when to come?" she asks, her voice going deeper, huskier.

"Yes, please," he whispers, then he sucks her thumb into his mouth and listens to her groan.

"You want me to keep fucking you?" she asks, sliding her lips along the corner of his mouth. They're all tangled up in bed, half on top of each other, still naked but for the t-shirt Dee's wearing, and she slides her thigh over his cock, which is hardening at the mere sound of her voice.

"God yes, please, yes," he whimpers, and he tilts his face to kiss her, wet and humid and sloppy and desperate like he's never kissed anyone before, like he never wants to kiss anyone again.

When they pull apart, panting, their wetness smeared all over their legs and hips, Sam says, "But there's just one more thing I want to do."

"What is it?" she asks, all lazy cat-eyes and rocking hips and roaming hands.

"I want to be able to tell you something," he says softly, catching one of her hands gently in his. She slows in his arms until she's still, looking up at him with guarded eyes, but he knows she's only trying to guard herself. He knows her so well, he can see the hope there, too.

"I love you," he says, and it's out, that huge secret that had filled him up and twisted him around for years, and saying it makes it even bigger, and he has to say it again. "I love you."

"Oh Sammy, I love you too," she says, pulling him in for a fierce kiss, her hands tangled tight in his hair. She pulls back, lips a fraction of an inch from his, eyes pinning him in place. "I can't... " Her eyes flick back and forth from one of his eyes to the other. "I don't think I can say it that much, I'm not like you--"

"That's okay," Sam says, "You--"

"But I want you to know it, to believe it. In every way, okay?"

"Okay," Sam says, grinning, and he presses his face into the curve of her neck and breathes her in, rocks their bodies together, so full up with love and frenetic energy, mind racing, body hard and sweaty and ready to fuck, ready to do anything. He could run a four minute mile right now, he thinks. He could ace his SATs. He could do anything.

He could kiss his sister and tell her he loves her, and she won't stop him.

He does it, whispering it along her collarbones and up the smooth column of her throat until he reaches her jaw, then she presses his face hard against her skin so that his teeth dig in, and she grunts.

"Okay," she says, panting. "But there's one more thing I want, too."

"Anything," he says, running his hand up her sweaty belly to cup the swell of her breast.

"Before we start this thing again. I want you to fuck me like you want to fuck me, not like I tell you to."

"But Dee... " Sam's confused and horny, was all ready for the games to begin again, and he can't find the right words. "I want to... however you want it. That's how I want it. Always."

Deanna laughs at him, actually laughs. "You might think so now, big boy, but there are gonna be times, times when I push you too far, times when I make you so crazy, that you're gonna want to just pin me to the mattress and ream me hard."

The laugh cleared his head a little bit, and he leans back to look at her. "You know, you made a sixteen-year-old boy go for a week without coming, and you teased me so bad I thought I was gonna die, but I never thought about doing that. Never thought about anything but making you feel good. I just wanna make you feel good."

Dee shrugs with one shoulder. "Your picnic, then. I'll tell you how I want you to fuck me."

Sam listens with sweaty, breathless anticipation, and his cock gives a hard twitch when Dee gives him her wicked, crooked grin.

"What I want you to do," she says, running a hand up his thigh and taking his stiff dick into her hand, giving it a light squeeze that makes him gasp. "Is just pin me to the mattress and ream me. Hard. Hard as you can."

"Then that's what I'm gonna do," Sam says, his voice low and rough, as he grips the hem of the t-shirt and jerks it up, then yanks it over her head, a seam audibly tearing.

She falls back on her elbows, her head tilting and lips quirking in the "bring it on" expression that has been killing him for years, and he surges up, kisses that look off her face, and then pulls back to muscle her whole body up onto the bed. He crawls over her then, licking and biting up her belly, sucking hard on a nipple, his dickhead leaking a line of precome up her thigh. Her wrists are strong, but they're small in his hands, and she offers no resistance when he pins them up over her head.

"Fuck, I want you," he says, nudging her legs open with his knees and then scraping his teeth over her neck just to hear her gasp. She's wide open for him, neck bared and arms raised and legs spread, and it hits him then that maybe he's been the one in control this whole time. That she's been at his mercy just as much as he's been at hers, and that thought tangles in with a hundred other ones as her scent hits him, sweaty and musky and pure fucking sex.

He cants his hips forward and the head of his cock skids along her pussy, so hot and creamy wet, and he's glad he came not ten minutes ago, or he thinks this might have set him off right then. He spreads his thighs, knees sliding along the sheets, and crawls up closer, then angles his hips and shoves in, gasping at the sudden, searing heat and tightness enveloping him.

"Sammy!" Dee groans, lifting her legs to wrap them around his hips, her heels digging into his ass. "Yeah, that's it, fuck."

He licks the sweat off her neck and takes her mouth in a bruising kiss as he slides in deep, until he can't go any deeper, and she's panting, wrists shaking in his hands. He fucks into her with all the frustrating longing bottled up for years, deep pistons of his hips until she's crying out every time he bottoms out and it sounds like it hurts, but she's still using her heels to pull him in, thrusting her hips up against him, helping him get as deep as he can.

"Dee, Dee," he pants, his voice cracking. He lets loose her wrists and rises up onto his knees, hands sliding down over her arms, her shoulders, her breasts, until he's kneeling up and thrusting into her. He rubs a hand over her taut belly and he can actually feel the bluntness of his cock punching up against her skin, and that makes him lightheaded and crazy with want. His hand slides lower, thumb brushing over her wet, swollen clit, and she throws her head back in a moan.

It's beautiful and filthy and almost perfect. He circles her clit with his thumb and feels her clench around him, and he slows inside her.

"I know how I want to fuck you," he says, voice rasping.

"Then do it." Her eyes are glittering in her flushed face, and she's gripping onto the sheets for dear life.

"I wanna make you come on my cock," he says, all inhibitions lost in the moment, letting himself fall forward, and he feels a spasm shake through her lower body.

"Fuck, I gotta make you talk dirty more, that's-- Ohhh!" Deanna moans as he presses his pubic bone against hers, his wiry pubes grinding against her clit with every thrust inside. He slows down now, wants to take his time, do it like she showed him, all rhythmic and hot. Not blow his load like he was about to. Though just thinking about it makes him speed up for a few seconds; thinking about coming in her tight, wet pussy makes his whole body feel as if he'd stuck his finger in a socket.

Dirty talk is still a little outside his comfort zone, but it's what she wants, so he tries some more. "Wanna feel your pussy crush me when I make you come," he whispers against the side of her face, and she moans and wraps her arms around his neck, digs her short fingernails into his back.

He keeps up his rhythm and he can feel her winding up, cunt pulsing tighter and harder the longer he fucks, and he gets a hand on her perfect handful of a breast and squeezes. This gets him another moan, so he squeezes again, hips rocking, and pulls gently on her nipple.

"Again, don't stop, fuck," Dee breathes, her eyes unfocused and her mouth slack. He pulls on her nipple again, and the ferocity with which he wants to get it in his mouth and suck it makes him growl into her ear, and then she's coming, clawing at the back of his neck, gripping his hair, her cunt clenching hard and tight around him, gushing wetness that soaks his balls.

"Sammy!" she moans, her voice ruined. Her whole body arches as a hard spasm hits her and her heels pull him in deep, and now he's insane for her, thrusting and bucking with no rhythm or finesse, just raw, primal need. Her pussy's still twitching around him when he feels the first hard spurt of his come pulse out inside her, and he pushes his open mouth against her neck to muffle the unintelligible sounds he makes and he spills himself out in hard, deep pulses that only make everything wetter, better.

He collapses on top of her panting, knowing her body can bear his weight for a moment. "I love you," he breathes, gathering her body closer to him. "I love you so much."

"You too, baby boy," she whispers, lips brushing his forehead and then they're kissing, lips soft and lazy and chapped. He whimpers when one last clench of her squeezes his soft, wet cock out of her body, whimpers again when she reaches down and takes it into her hand and gives it a loving stroke.

"You're so good," she whispers, and scattered pieces fall back into place in his mind and he's all hers again, belongs to her, would do anything and everything for her.

Carefully, he rolls them over so that she's sprawled against his body. They kiss again, and he can feel his come leaking out of her onto his thigh.

He hesitates, then says, "I want to eat it out of you."

She grins at him, eyes hooded. "Maybe I'll let you next time."

Amazingly, his dick stirs against her thigh.

She laughs softly, a husky, exhausted sound that he's instantly in love with. "You are sixteen, aren't you?"

"And you're amazing," he can't help saying, teenage romantic that he is, in the first deep throes of love.

Deanna smiles at him, and then her face loses some of its softness, becomes the Deanna he's always known, and he's glad of it despite feeling some loss at that vulnerable woman she'd allowed herself to be for a scant few minutes.

"You gonna clean us up, or what?" she asks playfully, pushing up on her elbows.

"I'll go get a washcloth," Sam says.

She kisses the tip of his nose, then rolls off of him, leaving his front cold and wet and sticky with sweat and come.

"Good boy," she says.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final proper chapter in my Denial fic, though there will probably be more porny submissions in the Denial 'verse in the future :) This chapter was beta-read by the incomparable firesign10. All remaining mistakes are belong to me.
> 
> If there's anything you'd like to see in the future between Deanna and Sam, please do let me know! I've got a few ideas of things I want them to try, and I've got half an in-verse one-shot already finished, but I love hearing what readers like so far, and what they'd like in the future :) Thanks for reading!


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